Disturbing and delightful, this tiny collection of tales offers ninety-nine glimpses into the darkest, strangest corners of the world we think we know.

“A closed box contains many things; an opened box only one.”

Clever, vanishing children. Parents who gnaw flesh beneath the floorboards. Narrow rooms crowded with clockwork and traps that snap in the dark. Carnivorous, bloody tree roots. Animals that whisper with the voices of the dead.

Sinister and tantalizing, each of the brief stories in this peculiar collection is a riveting work of atmospheric dread. Their narrators are by turns terrified and terrifying, voices shot through with grief or grisly humour. In impressively crafted prose, J.M. Miro proves yet again that he is a master of the weird and wonderful, a singular imagination at gleeful play.

So open these little boxes and enter a world of morbid curiosities, in which long-fingered creatures crouch by the window and young murderers lurk in the summer grass. By the end, only one thing is certain: how dizzyingly little we comprehend about the worlds in which we haunt and are haunted.